Turning Fifty, Drinking Merlot and Thinking About St. Francis





This week, my dear friend Jane congratulated me on turning fifty. "I didn't do anything," I told her. "I just kept breathing."

At the small Italian restaurant Greg took me to tonight to celebrate my turning 50 tomorrow, a man was playing the piano and singing. Among his tunes was "Happy Birthday." I knew he wasn't playing it for me. It would have embarrassed me and my husband, who knows me well, would not have requested the song. Still, it was sweet to hear as I sipped red Merlot beside my still-48-year-old husband.

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